


Mine, Mine, Mine

by DarthSuki



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biting, Exhibitionism, F/M, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Omegaverse, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 00:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17652746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: It's that time again, your heat is here and you and Kevin are expected to stay for a week at a StrexCorp-funded facility specifically to help with family planning. For all of the perceptions and seemingly well-intentioned resources available to you and Kevin as a bonded pair, you know all it means is that you and him will be spending a week together under the constant watch of researchers for purposes you're not quite sure of.Still, it's at least a little hot.





	Mine, Mine, Mine

**Author's Note:**

> For context, this is based off of a series of rather kinky headcanons for a program that StrexCorp runs in order to control the family planning of their employees (so everyone, basically). If you're interested in learning more about it, you can catch all the headcanons and such about it [on my WTNV blog here!](https://wtnvwritings.tumblr.com/tagged/strexcorp-breeding-program/chrono)

The room is crisp and clean, devoid of decoration and without a single item of personal connection. It’s kept at an optimum temperature, neither too hot or too cold, and looks more like a hospital room than anything else. 

No windows and a single door, though you’re certain the mirror on one side of the room is two-way, and that there are plenty of observation devices laid about in every corner. It’s a simple layout, as it needs nothing more than a bed that sits at the far side of the room across from the door, and on one side of that is a dresser.

You’re not sure if you want to know what’s inside of it.

You stand in the center of the room, fiddling with your fingers and trying to settle your buzzing thoughts. They jump at you constantly, like buzzing insects trying to obscure your vision or a hand tugging at your shirt, but you do well enough to ignore them.

It’s so hard to ignore them though.

You’re nervous, but not for the reason someone might think, looking at the scene. Though this room is bare, it’s a familiar emptiness, one that you’ve come to associate to rather positive things--as positive as things can be as a StrexCorp employee in some regards. 

The floor is soft beneath your bare feet. The air is cool, a little on the chilly side despite the room being carefully climate-controlled for some reason deemed unimportant to explain to you or anyone in your role; that’s information only for the researchers, scientists and doctors to know, though you hardly can figure out how temperature could play into fertility all that much.

You wring your hands together and glance down at yourself, clothed in light grey fabric that tents awkwardly around your body. It’s not made to be form-fitting in any way, only something that you can wear to cover yourself when padding through the hallways outside your assigned room. Something to keep your dignity intact, though it’s been lost many times over by the number of half-hidden cameras in the room, watching you.

The clothes are secured only by thin strips of velcro--very easy to tear off. 

They  _ need _ to be easy to tear off.

It’s only your third time in this facility, in one of these rooms. The pills haven’t kicked in just yet, though you can almost  _ feel _ them in your stomach if you think hard enough, breaking down into your system and settling into each of your limbs like a warm, welcomed weight. 

You’re not afraid, not really. Even though you are technically alone in the room you know you won’t be forever; just a matter of time before they let your mate through the single door so the two of you can enjoy one another’s intimate company while voyeuristic eyes can do what they do with their notes and whispers and occasional comments.

Maybe, just maybe, the prospect is even a little exciting. 

“Your heartbeat has increased in speed by 125 percent,” came a soft, clinical voice from one of the speakers in the corners of the room. You recognize the feminine voice by sound, but with no name. “We do not detect that your intensifiers have been absorbed in your system yet, indicating fear or arousal. Feedback?”

That’s the only question you’re ever really given, the only time that the voice wants you to say anything directly in return.

“Arousal,” you say in a simple, half-embarrassed whisper. “Just….just arousal.” It’s no good to try and hide the information from them, anywhere between three and five assigned researchers with their eyes and ears and instruments attuned to you and your room.

The voice doesn’t respond, but maybe it’s better that way. One less realization that you have no privacy in even the most intimate moments, as you feel the slow creeping of warmth on your fingertips and toes.

As if on queue, the door slides open to reveal your mate on the other side.

All thoughts of worry and apprehension melt away as your eyes fall to Kevin’s face, familiar and warm and  _ perfect _ , even if your body is already attuned to label him that--the pills are starting to work, you are familiar with their gentle influence as they break down the last vestiges of walls holding up any sense of shame in the back of your mind.

He’s barely able to take a couple steps into the room before your arms are around his body, holding him tightly against you in the familiar search for physical touch and comfort.

“Dearest,” Kevin coos, returning the gesture with ease, his lips to the shell of your ear and his arms tight around your form. You hear him take in a long, deep breath. “ _ Oh _ , they’ve already given you the medication. You smell  _ delightful _ .”

He takes in another breath, face moving to nuzzle the side of your throat as his hands settle over your hips. The attention is comforting to you, body already taking great satisfaction in his touch and voice. The warmth has spread up your arms by now, up your legs and tickling into your belly.

The pills are working.

It’s not as if you weren’t going to have your heat without the pills, they simply spurr it on a little quicker, allowing the experience to settle in neatly for a specific day on the calendar. You have your next several heats planned out in this way, carefully interwoven into your work schedule so that no odd days are taken off when you’re not otherwise predisposed with important…. _ intimate _ work.

You nuzzle with equal affection into Kevin’s throat, smelling his earthy musk, tinged so slightly with iron and a perfume of things you’ve come to recognize as the medication used to speed up his rutting presentation. Maybe you’re biased, maybe you’re already too-deep into perhamones and instincts to care, but it smells wonderful--Kevin smells like familiarity and home and you don’t want him to let you go for a moment.

It doesn’t take long for either of you to get to the bed; the motions are as familiar as your names, one shift of your aching bodies at a time until you feel the edge of the mattress against the back of your legs. Kevin holds you gently as you fall back, feeling the welcoming hug of the bed beneath your body. Everything is so soft, so warm, so comfortable.

There’s a gnawing thought at the back of your head: the bed could use more pillows. More blankets. More soft things surrounding you, a nest of warm as your mate, looking at you with eyes filled with such  _ primal _ abandon.

Kevin’s whispering to you all the while.

“My sweet mate, my perfect mate--” his voice sounds like honey to you, drifting into your ears with loving heat in the otherwise cold room. “I need you dearest, I need you  _ now.  _ Oh, I’ll have you full soon,  _ so full _ of me…” You feel his hands grabbing at your clothes, pulling them until the velcro clasps give from his territorial insistence. 

The clothes slide of your skin so easily. They were designed for this purpose, after all; grey coloration to not influence territorial cues, looseness for comfort, velcro for ease of removal from needy, clawing hands of an alpha.

Every moment of the coupling is planned for by forces beyond what your mind can even comprehend even in moments of sobriety. From the introduction of the mating couple to the last minutes of copulation before the last threads of heat is over, there’s not a moment that isn’t carefully planned in great detail on some computer database or in the minds of an assigned, impersonal researcher.

None of it even matters when all you crave and hunger for is the feel of Kevin’s bare skin on your own and his knot seated pleasantly inside your body. Thoughts beyond that are meaningless, notions empty, desires nonexistent.

Everything feels sensitive in the moments that Kevin finally strips you bare, as if every touch and brush of his skin to yours is the lick of a flame. It makes you writhe against him, needy and impatient--what might have taken a few hours naturally takes but a few minutes with the pills in your system, and you can’t honestly feel all that aggravated when they make you feel so  _ good _ beneath Kevin’s loving touch and focused eyes.

You feel his name spill from your lips. It’s equally saturated with love and need, the emotions curling around the sound as your hands curl around his shoulders, your arms around his neck. You feel him press against you, lips to your forehead, hips settling between your legs, many sets of eyes on the two of you in your intimate time together.

“Please,” you say. “I need you, I want you.”

There's power in those words even outside of your heat, a power of claim and love and obsessive endearment that exists only for you. Though you can't see Kevin's face, you have seen the effect of the words so many times before to feel the shift in his gaze, carnal lust to obsessive love, his lips hungrier with each and every kiss as they trail down your face, across your jaw, then down to your throat. You feel sharp teeth and soft lips trace against your mark--it's just a few inches below your left ear, too high to hide under a collar and looking seething between a bruise and a tattoo. 

You remember when Kevin originally left it on you. The first time the two of you were in this very room together and watched by more researchers than you could count. You remember the press of his lips and the gentle, almost frightened pressure of his teeth on your skin. How they had sunk into your skin as climax had swept over the both of you, leaving you whining and thrashing beneath the man in a vain attempt at controlling the pleasure filling up your thoughts and body.

“Initial copulation needs to happen within ten minutes of introduction,” a cold, clinical voice sounds around the two of you, coming from all the hidden speakers at once. “The omega is ready, please commence penetration.”

The voice is the same you heard a few minutes ago, before Kevin had stepped into the room. 

You hear the man growl against your skin, an incoherent grumble of words, but no argument otherwise falls from his lips. The two of you are used to the plethora of rules put in place when you’re at this facility, but it doesn’t mean that they sometimes get in the way of intimacy, emotional exchanges of love and devotion for the sake of something they’ve made feel so clinical.

The two of you are already stripped bare and lost in the haze of pheromones and hormones, alpha and omega, bodies having been ready for the moment even before Kevin stepped into the room. You feel Kevin shift his hips against yours. Legs reach up around his body wrapped with your ankles crossed behind the small of his back just as you feel the gentle prod of his cock against your entrance.

It takes too much to hide a moan of delight. You let it from your mouth, from somewhere deep in your chest and interwoven with your instincts as an omega. Calling to your alpha.  _ Needing _ your alpha. He’s so close to you, so warm and smelling of familiarity and love and home.

Despite the fact that you’re already wet and dripping slick, Kevin takes the time to be gentle, to move slowly as his hips press forward and you feel him opening you up. It scratches at an itch somewhere in your mind, the position and pressure and heat, it leaves you feeling satisfied in a way that you can’t put into words, so all you can do is hold yourself to Kevin’s body and shiver in delight.

“I have you,” Kevin growls, face pressing once more against your throat. You feel his lips on your mark, shifting against sensitive skin as he speaks. “Yes,  _ yesssss _ . So tight and hot, dearest, and all for me--my beautiful mate.”

It’s so hard to put to words the way you feel in moments like this. Before all the mindless heat, before the desperate fucking there’s just this...satisfaction. It’s soft and gentle, a moment of true bonding that is nearly as lovely as the feeling of climax. It’s this moment that you get to hold Kevin so close, clutch him tight and feel his lips love over your neck and words whisper sweet nothings into your ears.

You sigh against Kevin’s shoulder after a moment, letting it all sink in deep into your skin and thoughts until you feel a flicker of need start gnawing at your belly again. 

“Kevin-” you start, but the man hushes you softly. His lips move from your throat and instead press to yours, occupying your mouth just as you feel his hips shift against you.

For all that he was gentle before, your mate isn’t now--at least in the sense that he isn’t slow. 

Kevin fucks hard and with purpose, finding a pace that leaves stars in your eyes and a distinct shiver of pleasure racing down your spine. All you can find yourself doing is clutching at him, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades and legs wrapped tight around his hips. It’s a show in some sense, a performance to those who watch, who observe and write down each and every little movement or lack thereof.

You can feel all the eyes on you. Gazes on your face, even as it’s tucked against Kevin, nuzzling into his throat. You can feel it on the way you hold him and the way you tense with each thrust, how your body wants more and more with every little moment of pleasure he has to give you.

“Mine,” Kevin growls. You feel and hear the clench of his fists into the sheets on either side of your head, material that will be no-doubt ripped to shreds by the time the week is over. “I don’t care if they watch--I want them all to see, see that you’re mine and only mine.”

The mantra is familiar, words of possessive promise that one has only in this convoluted form of mating, no privacy for the couple and no shame in their pleasure. Could the scientists hear him? Could they catch your fervent little moans in reply, did they take them down as notes to look over later?

It doesn’t matter really, because you’re used to this, all of this, every moment of clinical observation overpowered by the heat and deep lust of Kevin’s voice and touch on your burning bare skin. It almost makes it burn hotter, knowing that others are watching your most intimate moments of rapture and euphoria. It makes it almost comforting to know that they see every moment that the man has you beneath him, legs open and body writhing in pleasure into each and every powerful climax he pulls you into.

It doesn’t take very long for either of you to reach the first of many ends. Your bodies are still shifting unevenly into the cycle, heat and rut together and forced faster with pills and medicine and pheromones pumped into the air of the room itself. The rest of the week will be a heavy fog of desire, so it’s almost nice to enjoy some time with Kevin before instincts start to overcome the both of you, so you can truly feel content as he shakes with pleasure and drives his cock deep into your wanting body over and over and over again.

An alpha’s orgasm never comes quite as a surprise, and Kevin is certainly no exception to the rule. Even in the growing haze of pleasure you can feel the way his growing knot catches at the rim of your entrance, making each thrust harder, each with more pressure against your muscles and inner channel and leaving you to shiver with more than just need.

The first knotting of the week is always like this; you’re far from inexperienced and yet it catches you somewhere in the exposed thrall of emotions, leaving you vulnerable and nervous and wondering if he’ll be able to fit inside you.

It should be a silly worry, but you still feel your mate’s lips move to your throat and press against your mark.

“It’s alright,” the man growls, teeth pressing gently against the bond mark over your skin. “Breathe, dearest--o-oh….just breathe f-for me. You can take all of me, my good little o-omega.”

The knot gets thicker. Kevin’s pace is slowing, keeping more of his cock inside of you with each thrust--you can feel how the girth of the knot starts to press against your inner walls, rubbing against all of the most sensitive nerves in a way that you feel listless. 

Your body listens to your alpha’s gentle coo, taking all of him and thensome, body opening up and letting Kevin move until he’s finally fully inside you once more and doesn’t pull back out again. Oh, you can feel it, all of it, rubbing inside of you.

“Ooooh yesssss~” Kevin all but hisses, gripping his fists tighter still into the sheets. You can feel so many pairs of eyes on the two of you, can almost feel them taking down numbers and times and everything in between that holds some sort of value to them. 

Sounds of pleasure escape you when your orgasm finally hits, starting from the bottom of your stomach and working it’s way through your limbs. Muscles contract around your mate’s thick cock, milking him as he too finds his end, body satisfied and knot perfectly nestled within an omega mate.

“ _ Mineminemine _ ,” the man chants, low and powerful and oh-so-deep in every way possible, needily shifting his hips in little not-quite thrusts that only serve to prolong the pleasure for both of you. “Fill you up so full. Oh dearest, you won’t even have the energy to leave the bed when I’m done with you.”

Somewhere in all the haze and heat, you distantly feel the sharp prick of teeth over your neck, pressing down over the scar just a few inches below your left ear.

It should hurt. It  _ does _ hurt, but only a little, only for a breath of time and quickly washed away by a rush of hormones and heat and love, the kind that no pill can simulate deep in your chest and mind. It makes you sob sweetly in Kevin’s arms, body shaking and clinging to him in a moment of raw passion as everything finally seems to come together.

It’s getting easier to get through that initial knotting, pills be damned, though it’s nice that you’re not the only one going through it. You feel Kevin lap gently at your throat, licking up little droplets of blood, and finally help the two of you turn onto your sides with slightly detangled limbs.

The shift of your bodies tug gently at the way Kevin’s knot is seated inside of you, but not nearly enough to hurt. If anything it only serves as a reminder of the intimate way the two of you are connected and will remain connected for a half hour more while slick, hot warmth slowly fills you.

You stare at Kevin’s face, finally able to take in all of the little details of his person you’ve grown familiar with, in love with so deeply. He stares back at you with those dark eyes, pinpricks of light the only indication of his focus. He’s smiling gently, genuinely--you can tell because the corners of his lips don’t pull painfully at the scars or stitches marking his face. 

It makes you smile just as lovingly in return, no words needed in the silence between you to reinforce the love you feel in your chests for one another. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a request made on my WTNV writing blog. If you would like to submit a request or check out my other related work, [go check it out here!](https://wtnvwritings.tumblr.com/)


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